


My Body, Your Body

by Sparcina



Series: The Sexy Ships of Star Trek [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental body switching, Angst and Humor, Body Worship, Bodyswap, Bones' southern drawl, Caring Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Idiots in Love, Jim needs a hug, Kissing, Leonard hates space, Leonard needs a hug, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Self-Doubt, Spock is a good friend, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Vulcan powers of observation, everyone panics, fantasies, in a roundabout way, shifting povs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: The next thing Leonard knows, he's swapped bodies with Jim. Worse things could happen in space and probably will, but he can't think of a single one right now, not when he's in the body of the man he loves.Jim has loved Bones for years but doesn't trust himself not to screw up their friendship. Of course, walking around in his crush's body doesn't exactly help him pretend he's satisfied with the status quo...TheMcKirk Bodyswapfic nobody asked for, in which Jim and Leonard handle this ordeal as well as can be expected, some crew members get confused, and Spock tries his hand at a very human custom.





	My Body, Your Body

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SbiderSlut (BlackCoffeeCat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCoffeeCat/gifts), [aishahiwatari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/gifts), [canistakahari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/gifts).



> For my darlin' [SbiderSlut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCoffeeCat), who's always there for me (and also, who never cares if I jump from fandom to fandom). You rock! <3
> 
> Also an homage to aishahiwatari, who wrote the [Flying High](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1107387) series, a McKirk AU I'm very fond of. A sublime work, with feelings and sexiness in all the right places!
> 
> And finally, a thousand thanks to [canistakahari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari/works?fandom_id=601802), who masters the smut/humor mix like no one else. I could name a fic or two, but honestly there's too many of them among my favorite :)
> 
> Tags to be added.

_LEONARD_

Leonard hated being wrong, but he hated even more being right about unreliable technologies. First off, there were  _always_ accidents, like 110% of the time, no matter what Scotty liked to pretend. And who was always involved? Jim, because he thrived on danger, but also the man who shadowed him to ensure the Captain's continued survival: himself. And as if this wasn't enough to drive any sane man completely mad, it turned out that people could also _be_ an accident, as in being physically the result of technology malfunctioning. 

All in all, if Leonard's tolerance for space-related bullshit tended towards 'low' on any given day, it had now officially dropped off the spectrum altogether. 

“Goddamn it, Jim!”

His voice sounded like Jim’s; hell, his hands even looked like his best friend’s, which made a twisted sort of sense considering that he was currently staring at himself from the outside. And there was no scowl to be seen on the face of one Leonard McCoy, scowler extraordinaire; rather, an uncanny Jim-like expression of bewildered amusement.

The urge to punch himself was strangely normal, everything considered.

“Get me back in my body, now!” he ordered no one, and everyone.

“Ah, calm down, Bones! We're going to figure this out. We always do."

The sound of his own voice tied to Jim’s matter-of-fact acceptance of the unacceptable only fueled his rage.

“Calm down?” He waved wildly at the teleportation pad, then at Spock and Scotty standing by the console, idly and confused. _What a pair of gobsmacked idiots_. “You want me to calm down?!” Of fucking course, hearing Jim’s voice shaping his own rage didn’t help the situation one little bit. Besides, he was getting dizzy; probably a side effect of, you know, the freaking _body-swapping._ “Good god, Jim, we’ve just switched bodies!”

The indulgent look his own face (a JimTM look, again) was eerier than most mysteries in space. Which he hated. With passion.

“Bones, getting worked up won’t help-”

“How am I supposed to calm down?!” He stared at his hands. _Jim’s_ hands, so familiar and yet so different from his own. “For fuck’s sake, you just stole my body and you have the galls to say-”

“Oh, please, stop being so dramatic. As if I did it on purpose! And I’ll have you know that _you’ve_ stolen _my_ body too, asshole!”

The furious scowl on Leonard’s face was familiar, and that helped defuse the tension. But just a teeny-tiny little bit, because Leonard had not enlisted for that crazy bullshit. He’d applied to Starfleet because his ex-wife hadn’t left him much of a choice, and he’d stayed because the neurosurgeon in him had been challenged and stimulated… and yeah, okay, he’d been drawn to James T. Kirk like every other brainless space-maniac cadet around the campus.

He’d signed up for space because he was an idiot, that’s why. A lovesick fool who’d never gotten over the fact that his love for his best friend was a one-way street full of heart attacks, because Jim liked to put himself in harm’s way like it was on his weekly to-do list, on top of enjoying monogamy as much as Leonard himself enjoyed space (not at all).

Leonard wanted to scream himself hoarse, but he didn’t want to worry Jim any more than necessary. He wanted to curl into a ball and cry, too, but his pride would never survive such a public display of helplessness. He also itched to shake a solution of the two morons discussing in low tones by the pad, but he doubted that even Spock working with Scotty would get him a solution in a matter of minutes.

By that point, he wasn’t sure if he hated space or his own life more.

“Bones…”

Jim reached for his wrist, in a roundabout way under those mind-blowing circumstances, Leonard uttered a last, resounding ‘HELL NO!’ and scurried out of Medbay as fast as his new body allowed him, which was faster than usual, and not at all disturbing, of course.

His comm, Jim’s comm, crackled. “Bones, I know this is weird, but you can’t just hide and ignore-”

“You watch me, Indiana Fucking Jones” Leonard growled back, hurrying down the corridors packed with familiar crew members. They were all looking at him. And smiling.  _What the hell_ , was his first thought, quickly followed by _For fuck’s sake_. “Leave me alone, Ji- Kir- Just leave me the f- Just let me be for now, okay?”

It wasn’t exactly easy to shut Jim up, especially since he couldn’t speak like usual without drawing unwanted attention ( _hello,_ smiles), but he managed by the time the crowd thinned.

He also blocked Spock’s calls for good measure. Would have blocked Jim’s too, had he been sure that the kid would not land himself in more trouble. Some days, he really hated how much he loved that kid.

After a few minutes of silently debating with himself (and seriously considering punching the wall until the pain numbed some of that growing _panic_ , until he remembered those weren’t his fists), he wound up in the Captain’s quarters. Where else was he supposed to park the sorry ass that wasn’t even his and about which he should definitely not be fantasizing about right now?

“Fuck you so much, Jim.” Saying the words out loud didn’t help. Probably because it was Jim’s voice, and Bones’ rage always melted at the first inkling of Jim’s misery, verbal or otherwise.

_I need a fucking drink. Or a goddamn time machine._

Knowing those quarters as well as he did after years hunting down specific ‘you know where this/that is, Bones’, he quickly uncovered two unlabeled bottles of vodka.  _A drink it is_. Vodka put every brand of strong alcohol to shame, but it would accomplish the intended purpose: allow Leonard to forget, if only for a little while, the cluster fuck that was their current predicament.

For the first time in three years, the mess that was Jim’s quarters went totally unnoticed.

*

_JIM_

Not wanting to confuse his crew or embarrass and worry Bones (or embarrass and worry him more, if he knew him at all), Jim holed up in his best friend’s quarters. It made sense, considering whose body he was currently inhabiting, and besides, Bones had taken refuge in the Captain’s quarters, and there was no way in hell Bones would calm down if they shared the same breathing space right now.

For a solid two minutes, he stood right in the middle of those sparkling quarters, just taking in what had just transpired.

Holy Jesus on a replicated cracker, he was in Bones’ _body_! In _Bones_ ’ body! And no matter the word he emphasized in his mind, the concept didn’t lose any of its shock value. He’d dreamt for years of a closer relationship between them both, but this…This was…

He should probably sit down. He wouldn’t mind a drink, either, but he didn’t want to mess with Bones’ biology, and he knew how his best friend had worked hard to cut down on the drinking…

_Bones’ body._

_Holy shit_.

He sank into Bones’ bed and buried Bones’ face in his hand. Bones’ smell surrounded him, a mix of antiseptics, coffee and musk that had always appealed to him. He’d wanted to wrap himself in it, to bury his face in Bones’ neck for as long as he could remember, and now he _was_ Bones, he could trace those handsome features all he wanted, caress the face he’d-

Jim abruptly dropped his (Bones’) hands in his lap. _Shit._ He was so fucked, and not only because he was, once more, completely helpless. He didn’t believe in no-win scenarios, sure, but this mess might very well be the final straw, the one thing that pushed Bones away for good.

He heard his body sniff and quickly pressed a fist to his mouth, inhaling deeply. No, he would _not_ cry. And he would not call Bones, no matter how much he ached to hear his… no, not his voice, but at least his words.

The Starfleet manual should have a section dealing with body swapping. Not that it would do him any good, given how often Jim actually followed the rules.

 _This_ thought had Bones’ voice attached to it, and Jim felt like a ton of lead had switched places with his insides, _his_ being a relative term here.

He buried his face in his hands (not his, never his) and focused on his breathing. A panic attack was out of the question.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

He had a gift for strategy, and this was just another battle ground.

_In. Out. In. Out. Come on…_

Once he was sure he would not betray how fragile he felt, he commed his first officer.

“Captain?”

Well, thank fuck Spock was a genius who wouldn’t let the wrong comm ID confuse him.

“Yeah.” Would hearing his own intonations in Bones’ voice ever grow old? He doubted it. “So, do you have any idea when you’ll be able to fix this, Spock?”

The two-second silence that followed was nothing short of ominous.

“Spock? Talk to me.”

“I am thinking.”

 _No shit_. “What is Scotty saying?”

“Mr. Scott is examining the teleportation chamber as we speak.”

“It makes no freakin’ sense, I’m tellin’ yea both!”

“Mr. Scott said-”

“I heard, Spock, I heard.” Jim massaged his temples in an attempt to ease the growing headache. “Keep me appraised, 'kay? And take us off the duty rooster for the foreseeable future. I don’t want to accidentally kill someone.”

“I doubt either of you could take over one another’s responsibilities, Captain.”

The mental picture of Bones squirming in the Captain’s seat skirted the line between amusing and arousing, and Jim really didn’t need that kind of distraction right now.

"... that being said, I suppose the both of you could simply-"

"Don't say it, Spock." The vision of himself in Bones' body on the Bridge, and of his body scowling around in Medbay, was just too disturbing right now. It was too soon.

"It is probably too soon," Spock agreed. 

Jim had half a mind to accuse him of reading his mind again, but he was too wrung out to engage in their usual banter. "My thoughts exactly, Spock. Kirk- McCoy, whatever, I'm out.”

He lay down afterwards, listening to his own annoyance being conveyed in Bones’ growl. He expected to look at the ceiling for ages, but he fell asleep after a very short while.

Apparently, body swap was exhausting business. 

*

_LEONARD_

“Captain, do you have a moment-”

Leonard spun around, _I’m not the freaking Captain, damn it!_ on the tip of his tongue. Through sheer force of will alone, he pasted on a smile to balance the murderous expression he knew he’d been sporting for the last thirty-six hours, even in his sleep. On _Jim’s_ face.

“I don’t,” he said with as little vitriol as he could, which was still way too much going by the way the Ensign’s face flushed. “Aw, damn- come on, okay, I have time, let’s walk.” And he did have time. Buckets of it. Far too much, which he could fill with nothing interesting lest he did something stupid in Jim’s body… Like wandering around and bumping into emotional ensigns.

Ten minutes later, Leonard realized that he hadn’t had the faintest idea about what Jim’s job truly entailed. It seemed to him that every time he crossed paths with his best friend (most constant source of worry, secret crush, _will you stop that now!_ ), the much-too-lovable ass was ditching one responsibility or another, which was why Leonard had thought he could indulge in one innocent stroll during beta shift.

Well, he’d been wrong.

Because after his little talk with Ensign Tilly, it appeared that Jim spent _a lot of time_ listening to his crewmates, going out of his way to be the anchor they needed, offering solutions to their problems, or at least the comfort of an empathic shoulder to cry on. Keeping calm while the red hair had burst into tears babbling something about never being accepted in the command track had been the exact opposite of easy or natural, but Leonard had let the Ensign cling to him and soak his collar with tears because that was what Jim would do, what Jim did on a regular basis (and he was Jim now, goddamn it).

The next time someone hailed him in the hallway, however, he flung his dignity through the airlock and ran away. He was a doctor, damn it, not the fucking Captain.

And he may owe Jim an apology.

*

_JIM_

To be honest, Jim hadn’t expected Bones to be the one to reach out first. He’d planned on giving his best friend a couple more days before requesting a face-to-face, but Bones must be as bored as he was. Their dislike of small environments was probably the one thing they agreed on about space.

“Jim.”

Jim rushed to his comm unit as soon as he heard his own voice. It probably said something about the brain’s capacity to adapt. “Bones.” He injected as much relief in his voice as he thought Bones could bear. “Bones,” he repeated, because apparently adaptive brains could still get caught in loops. “Bones, you okay?”

“How the fuck can you expect me to be okay, kid?”

 _Fair enough._ Jim cleared Bones’ throat. “I mean-”

Bones’ aggravated sigh sounded familiar, even with Jim’s pitch. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t your fault.”

Jim felt a pang of something deep in his chest. “It’s not?”

Had Bones ever sounded so fragile? Jim cringed in anticipation of Bones losing his temper again, but all he got was another sigh.

“I’m the one who should apologize, Jim. So. I’m sorry.”

 _What_. “Why?”

Another sigh. Perhaps it was Bones’ new-found method to deal with unwanted stress. “I shouldn’t have lost my shit like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, besides going to space and dragging me along with you… well, the other you. You know.”

 _I could never have let you behind_. The thought flashed in Jim’s mind with enough force to kick a planet out of orbit, but Jim didn’t dare say the words out loud. He’d never dared to risk the wonderful (complicated, solid) friendship they had. And even if he suddenly mustered the courage to profess his love, it wouldn’t be right in their current situation. He would not manipulate Bones, never, not emotionally, and right now, they were both vulnerable.

“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly, shivering at the deep baritone not unlike a purr. “I…I know you hate space. And weird shit.”

“Space _is_ weird shit.”

Jim expected the conversation to take a lighter path afterwards, but Bones surprised him.

“I’m sorry I accused you of ditching your duties.”

Jim felt Bones’ eyebrows jump towards his hairline. “You’re- I mean, I hate paperwork and I postpone it as much as I can-”

“-or drop it in Spock’s lap whenever possible, but that’s not what I’m going on about here. I- I may have wandered a bit today.”

Jim could feel Bones’ eyes widen. “ _You?_ ” He chuckled, and had to wonder how Bones could not get aroused at the sound of his own voice, because he certainly was. All the time. And as far as he could tell right now (and he did his very best to _not_ be able to tell), Bones had a very healthy sexual drive. “Perhaps I’ll make an adventurous doctor out of you yet, Bones.”

“Shut up, Jim.”

“Shutting up now.”

It was so strange to have what amounted to a normal conversation hearing Bones’ voice _beneath_ his own. At some point, he went to the bathroom and flicked on the full-body mirror, curious to see his own emotions transpose themselves on Bones’ features.

The resulting tableau took his breath away. Jim was entranced by every minute shift he saw on Bones’ face, every change in intonation he heard in Bones’ voice, and he felt a rush of something incredibly powerful as Bones told him in the Captain’s voice that he was doing well.

_You’re doing so well, Jim._

So what if he’d fantasized a lot about Bones praising him in bed? Screw him; he had a right to his imagination.

He was still standing in front of the mirror when Bones checked out.

He didn’t know how long he remained fixed on the spot, wondering if going crazy would be easier. He’d postponed this moment up till now, but Bones had told him explicitly to wash his feet and brush his teeth _and don’t you dare forget about flossing, Jim_ , so didn’t have a valid reason to deny himself any longer, did he?

He shed Bones’ clothes one item at a time, slowly, almost reverently, each brush of Bones’ fingers on revealed skin electrifying. He’d seen his best friend naked at the Academy, and a couple of times on the ship, too (completely accidentally of course), but this was no quick peek, this was _purposeful_. And if he felt guilty for drinking in that well-sculpted body he’d sought out time and time again in his one-night-stands, well, at least he wasn’t groping, right?

Not yet anyway.

But he would. Because washing required touching, aaaaaand he was well versed in many arts, but ignoring his body’s needs wasn’t one of them. And oh, he had needs. Urgent needs.

The only problem was that they were not his… or were they? Lust was called physical desire for a reason. The body was leading the mind, not the other way around.

Whatever he needed to tell himself to sleep at night, right? 

Stepping into the shower felt like entering a dream, each gesture vague and not quite related to each other, as if causality had become an optional dish on today’s menu. Neither smiling nor frowning (he didn’t know who he was anymore, didn’t want to fight the confusion that wasn’t, the certainty that grew and expanded so far beyond his perception of reality that he could not tell where he ended and the rest of the world began), he tilted his head upwards and closed his eyes.

Water poured down, hot and so strange all over the face he’d spent years watching from so many angles, from so close up, that he could paint it blind. With a trembling hand, he slicked back the wet hair he ached to mess up, then traced that brow, the dark eyebrows beneath. He let his fingers ghost over the straight nose he’d kissed but once in a drunken fit.

His touch on Bones’ cheeks was so light he could hardly feel it at all.  

He ran the pad of his thumb over parted lips, one after the other. He would like to pretend that he spent mere seconds outlining that perfect mouth, but he probably lingered far longer, pressed and pulled, teased, connecting what he saw daily to what he touched now in stolen intimacy, heart hammering (Bones’ heart), knees wobbling (Bones’ knees).

He washed the strong body much faster than he usually did, an awkward attempt to keep forestall the crash of guilt. Still, he didn’t skim over the feet, as per Bones’ instructions, and even cleaned the often-forgotten space between the toes. Bones’ feet were hard to reach in this non-flexible body, but Jim did his best, fingers curling around an elegant heel, studying the dark hair covering Bones’ calf, mesmerized.  

Of course, he saved what truly needed attention for last.

“Oh, Bones…”

The name was punched out of his lungs as Bones’ long-fingered hand palmed his strained cock at last, lathering it with soap. He didn’t look down (didn’t dare), just washed it slowly, leisurely, rubbing the perineum, soaping the balls, pulling down the foreskin to thumb gently at the glans, almost in a hurry but not quite, as if he could remove his hand anytime.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t even try that hard. One hand splayed on the stall in front of him, shoulders hunched under the stream of hot water, he fisted Bones’ cock hard and fast, jerking off in his usual fashion. He yearned to explore that hot flesh, to spend hours mapping it with Bones’ hands, but that would be even more unforgivable. He was already pushing his luck, massaging Bones’ throbbing length like this, grunting in Bones’ voice, thinking of Bones, of himself, of them together, here, cocooned in a dream of mutual adoration.

How often did Bones actually masturbate? he wondered as a fresh rush of adrenaline surged through him. Did he rub one in his office in between too-long shifts, as he tended to forego food and sleep, rest and pleasure, for everybody else’s sake?

Surely not enough, to be so often in that sour mood that terrified half the crew.

Jim had joked about it in the past, but he’d seldom been less amused in his life. Need was at the forefront of his mind, lust a heady pressure at the edge of his consciousness. Guilt ate at him, but the want was fiercer, set Bones’ whole body on fire. He didn’t know if his knees shook so much because of an unexpected strain, or because of his visceral need to _be_ back in his body while still in this shower, kneeling in front of Bones as Jim.

He wanted to mouth and lick and suck at the cock in his hand, wanted to blow his doctor of a best friend until his throat felt raw and his knees _were_ raw. He wanted Bones to lose himself like this, lose his mind with a strong hand fisted in his hair, pumping in and out his Captain’s mouth, calling him a _good boy,_ and he wanted to taste Bones’ cum, wanted Bones’ expression of ecstasy branded forever in his mind. He wanted to belong.

His hand sped up on Bones’ throbbing cock. He could hear Bones’ voice more clearly now, louder in the fantasy taking shape. Would he be breathing raggedly, like he was right this instant?

_Just like that, Jim. God- you look gorgeous like that. Take it so well. Have I known you liked my cock so much, I’d shut you up more often in the past, darlin’._

He wanted to gag on Bones’ cock, wanted his scent in his nose and his words in his ears, every single sense taken over by the man he was touching, _fuck_ , he was so close, wanted to come, needed that release, felt… he felt…

Afraid (that Bones would condemn him).

So fucking turned on.

Confused like he’d never experienced confusion before.

_So good for me, Jim, god…_

“Yes!”

That single sound of rapture was what pushed him over the edge in the end. With a broken sob, Jim stared at the cum shooting from Bones’ cock. It stripped his wrist, three white lines that quickly faded with the water. A single tear trailed down his cheek.

He sank to his knees, feeling empty, punctured from the inside, as if he, Bones, had been the dream all along.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm very fond of bodyswap fics and McKirk. Also, this was supposed to be a OS. No surprise here.


End file.
